Soul Child
by Kaliope Agathon
Summary: Dean and Castiel are faced with a hard decision when Heaven threatens the daughter they never knew they had. No MPREG. My attempt at a Canon Destiel. In Progress
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything related to and including _Supernatural_.

**Author's Note: **My Toefl results were outstanding, but I am not a native speaker. I will do my very best not to make any glaring grammar or spelling mistakes, however, they will pop up on occasion I'm afraid.

**Summary: **Dean and Castiel are faced with a hard decision when Heaven threatens the daughter they never knew they had. No MPREG. My attempt at a Canon Destiel.

**Prologue**

Castiel heard the metallic vibrations of the angel blade as it slashed through the air, his reflexes quick but not quite swift enough to avoid being grazed by it as he whirled around, ready to face his attacker. The rapid flattering of wings was all he heard when he turned around and saw nobody. Had his shoulder not stung where he had been hit, Castiel would have believed that this proximity to his human companions had led him to pick up the rather annoying trait of imagining things. He flexed his back experimentally and was rewarded with another sharp sting, his grace pulsating in a rather uncomfortable way. Confusion was evident in his blue eyes, as he carefully searched his surroundings. He knew that he was not exactly the most popular angel in heaven right now, but it seemed rather illogical for his brothers to injure him without reason or purpose, not even letting him see their identity so he would know whose wrath he had provoked. A much too human sigh escaped the celestial being's lips. He would find out who wanted him dead one way or the other.

The sound of flapping wings disrupted the quiet of Sam and Dean's motel room and before either of them could rouse from their uneasy slumber, the angel had already touched each of their foreheads, forcing them to sink into a deep sleep. While Sam's dreams were peaceful, Dean was tossing and turning in his bed, his eyelids rapidly moving as he was caught in the throes of a rather unpleasant nightmare. It was nothing he had ever seen before, neither the familiar images of Hell, nor a recreation of a particularly gruesome hunt, yet, the eldest Winchester felt trapped, backed into a corner, almost to the point of being violated. Had he or Sam paid closer attention to the fundamentalist Christian in the Motel room next door, who had looked at them with disgust as they entered their room together and begun praying to the angels to smite the sinful sodomites, they might have put up angel-proofing sigils just in case. However, neither of them had paid much attention to the muttering loon next door and his prayers had indeed been heard – and not by Castiel, who, at the very same moment, had been distracted by an invisible attacker with an angel blade.

The intruder standing next to Dean's bed lifted his vessel's hands and touched the sweating man's chest almost lovingly, his fingers looking for the right spot until he had found what he had been looking for. Slowly two fingers sank into Dean's ribcage, searching for his soul and gently scraping on its surface. Dean sucked in a sharp breath and thrashed violently, but the angel used his other hand to press him firmly against the mattress, while his fingers retreated from the hunter's chest, a tiny fragment of his soul pressed between his thumb and index finger. He inspected the soul fragment with a frown, his eyes darting back to the human, who had calmed down a little, although his hands were still clenching the sheets tightly. The angel was not used to question orders, but this time, he wondered if this was really the right thing to do. He did not feel pity for the human, or remorse for his actions, but he could not help the feeling that he had just become a part of something very bad as he disappeared from the motel room.

Somewhere in a carefully guarded hidden corner of Heaven three angels faced each other. One carried a blade with a piece of angelic grace glittering on its tip, the second one carefully held a tiny fragment of human soul between his fingers and the third held a clay jar between his hands. They looked at each, their faces betraying no emotion, and slowly soul and grace were dropped into the jar. Almost immediately, the vessel burned with bright light and the three angels hurriedly stepped back to a safer distance, observing the miracle that was taking place in front of them.

The moment that the bare soul and the pure grace connected with each other, they became completely intertwined, glowing bright enough to have burned out the eyes of a human, had one been unfortunate enough to witness it. Memories and feelings became one, character traits clashed and slowly a new soul, part angel, part human, began to emerge from the pulsating spectral mass. As if in slow motion a shape began to form around the soul, the clay of the vessel molding itself into limbs, a torso, and finally a head. At last, the combination of millennia of memories and three decades of a very turbulent human life formed a consciousness, firmly connecting it to the soul within the newborn body. With a sharp gasp, deeply blue eyes flew open, the panic in them finally resulting into an anguished cry, as tears streamed down freckled cheeks. She did not know where she was and why she had been created. But she knew who she was – and she knew that her very existence was not right.

In a shabby motel room in Maine, Dean Winchester cried out in his sleep.

Somewhere in the sky Castiel paused in midflight, his chest suddenly constricting with a pain he had never felt before. At the same time, Dean's cry rang in his ears and he resumed his flight with determination, ready to defend his friend from whichever danger he had managed to get himself into this time.

In a hidden corner of Heaven a powerful angel nodded with approval. Everything was going just according to his plan.

**To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This took a while, but real life dissertation chapters do take priority I'm afraid ;-).

**Disclaimer: **_Supernatural _is awesome and if I owned it, I'd be rich. But I don't, so I'm not.

**Soul Child – Chapter I**

Dean Winchester slowly emerged from a troubled sleep, his limbs heavy with fatigue and his eyes slowly blinking. Someone was shaking

his shoulder and when he sat up with a groan, both Sam and Castiel were staring at him in obvious concern. "Dude, you gotta stop

looking at me like this!" Dean groaned, as he untangled his sweaty body from the twisted sheets. He slapped Sam's hand away, but his

eyes were focused on Castiel, the last echoes of his dream urging him to stay close to his trench coat-clad heavenly guardian. Castiel

tilted his head, choosing to ignore the comment. "You were crying out in your sleep", he stated, in his patented matter-of-fact manner.

Sam nodded empathically. "You scared me, man, you sounded like someone was tearing you into pieces. Not for nothing, but Cas

normally doesn't come running when you have a nightmare." Castiel stepped closer, his eyes boring into Dean's, as if the answer to his

problem was painted on his iris. Dean huffed. "Listen, I am tired, I reek, and it is way too early – personal space!" Grumbling, he

stumbled out of bed, muttering about overprotective angels and crazy nightmares that he didn't remember anyhow on his way to the

bathroom, leaving an exasperated younger brother and a troubled angel in his wake. As soon as the door had closed, Sam turned to

Castiel, earnestly searching his face for any sign of discomfort. "Listen Cas, I don't mean to pry, but you really don't usually come here

to rescue Dean from a bad dream. What was different this time?"

Castiel shook his head. "I do not know Sam. I was flying and suddenly I had this strange feeling and then Dean was crying and I knew I

had to be here. Something is wrong, Sam; and Dean is connected somehow." Sam fidgeted with his hands. "Upstairs trouble or

downstairs trouble?", he asked. Castiel shrugged, seeming more human than he had in a while. "I believe Heaven is involved somehow,

but something is blocking me from investigating further." "Those angel dickheads better not think about using me as a vessel again. I

am fresh out of patience with your family's desire to torment me." Dean's face was set in a grim line as he came out of the bathroom, a

wet cloth pressed to his forehead. "I am already getting a headache." Castiel dutifully stretched out his hand to heal Dean of his

ailment, but he hunter shook his head. "I've had enough angel mojo for today already." The angel drew his hand back, a quick flash of

hurt passing over his features before he schooled them back into his indifferent signature look. "I understand, Dean. I will return to

heaven to seek an answer for our recent experience." He was gone with a flutter of wings. Sam gave his brother a reproachful look. "I

think you hurt his feelings." Dean pressed the cloth back on his head. "His family hurt my head, we're even now." Sam looked like he

wanted to argue, but then he sighed, walked over to the table and opened his laptop. "I am going to do some research on … well, I

guess you could call it angel-induced nightmares?" In response Dean just flopped down on his bed again. He could not remember any

images from the dream, but the feelings helplessness and being torn into half still lingered. Whatever this was, Castiel better find an

answer for it soon, because he did not like the feeling at all – and he definitely wasn't comfortable with his suddenly developed urge to

be close to the angel.

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

The angel stared at the young woman, her blue eyes meeting his with barely hidden fury. "You had no right to do this, you dickhead!"

she snarled, her arms tugging at the restraints the angel had seen fit to place upon her when it had become apparent that she was

going to be – less than cooperative. His eyes flashed as he stepped closer to her, fists slamming into the wall next to her head. "You will

show me some respect, Nephilim! I created you and I can tear you apart again just as easily." She flashed him an almost cocky grin in

return, although her eyes were still glowing dangerously. "Well, forgive me your highness, but seeing how I have been alive for less

than a week and I have barely had the time to develop my own personality, I am forced to draw from the memories and traits that

came with the genetic material and I must say, the longer you have me chained up here, the closer I feel to my human sire." The angel

stepped back to look at his creation once more. It seemed a testament to how far Castiel had fallen already that the woman before him

had turned out to be much more human than he had planned. Her grace, though strong, was very limited, while her mannerisms were

decidedly human. Her features were an even mix of Castiel's vessel and Dean, but the look on her face reminded him far too much of

the eldest Winchester for his liking. "The only reason I am not smiting you right now is because you are of use to us. You will stop this

insolence right now!" he gritted out. She laughed bitterly. "Well isn't that nice? I don't even have a name, but at least I'm useful. How

about this: I will not help you. In fact, I want my mommy. Oh wait, I don't have a mommy. I want my daddy then. Or daddies. Papas.

Papa and Daddy. Father 1 and Father 2. Daddy C and Daddy D. Nope, that doesn't work either. I'll make you a deal. You explain my

messed-up parentage to me and then we can go have a princess tea party. You will have to braid my hair of course, because I really feel

that I missed out on my childhood." She broke off, when it became clear that the angel was not going to answer her. Slowly the fury

drained out of her eyes and was replaced with an almost desperate plea. "Please … help me out here! You keep telling me that you have

a plan for me but I don't even know what I am and why I am! My head is filled with millennia of memories and human pain all wrapped

up in one and it is tearing me apart! Why are you doing this? Answer me, please!" The angel stepped forward again, gingerly stroking

her face this time. "It will be revealed to you, Nephilim. Be patient." He cast one last, contemplative look at her and then exited the

dark room she had been locked into soon after her creation. She snorted – from what she could tell, patience was not the strong suit of

either of her parents. Without warning, two faces swam up in front of her eyes, looking at her with love and kindness. Her much too

human heart constricted in her chest. These were her parents and she felt close to them, closer than to anything she had experienced

in her short life so far. She had never been outside of Heaven, but she knew she that if she walked on Earth, she would enjoy the

wonders of Creation just as much as Castiel – right after she had had a big cheeseburger and watched a marathon of Dr. Sexy MD with

Dean. Every instinct in her screamed for her to escape this place, to seek out Dean and Castiel, and figure out the mystery of her

existence with them by her side. At the same time, she was scared of their reaction. She could see Dean rejecting her, her very

existence proof of the way Heaven had once again violated him. Both of her fathers were consumed by pain and, having inherited

Dean's strong sense of loyalty and family, her heart cried out to them, wanting to soothe their pain. She sighed. Trying to sooth the

pain of a celestial being and a tormented human was an optimistic endeavor, given the fact that was barely able to separate her own

emotions from the ones she had inherited. At times it felt to her as if both Castiel and Dean were screaming at her, telling her to get

away from Heaven. With renewed determination she focused on the part of her that was Castiel, searching through his memories

frantically – there had to be some kind of way out of here.

**SPNSPSNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

Almost two months had passed on Earth since Dean had woken up feeling like something had been stolen from him and although the

feeling lingered, he had finally decided to ignore it, just as he ignored most things these days. To his own sadness that largely included

Castiel, and although he could feel the judgment in Sam on a daily basis, he just could not help treating the angel with indifference

whenever he appeared at their side to help them with a case. He was aware that he was hurting Castiel's feelings, he could see it in his

face more and more clearly as the weeks passed, but Dean Winchester did not cope well with strong emotions and he was afraid of

what would happen if he opened himself up to Castiel once again. Ever since that blasted nightmare the angel had appeared in his

dreams night after night. He never said anything, he just clung to Dean like his life depended upon it and Dream-Dean reciprocated just

as intensely. The hunter was both scared and confused by this. It was so unlike Castiel and yet seemed so natural and it bothered Dean

immensely that he could not figure out why he suddenly felt so connected to him. It was not the kind of connection he shared with

Sammy and it was definitely not sexual either, but for some reason unknown to him the friendly affection he had developed for the

angel had turned into a love so deep and unconditional that it almost left him breathless. If his life had been a chick-flick he would have

crushed the angel in his embrace, declaring his love for him over and over, but life was not a chick-flick and until Dean figured out

where these alien feelings were coming from, he would stay away from Castiel as much as possible. Something was screwing with his

mind, he was certain about that, and he would be damned if he gave into it.

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

When they came to her she was calm, her eyes cast downward in a display of submission. Two angels she did not know removed the

shackles and grabbed her upper arms firmly, guiding her out of her cell and down a long corridor. She had not seen her creator in many

days, but she was not naïve – the time for her to be 'useful' had obviously come and, having been left alone for such a long time, her

captors must have thought that they had broken her spirit, and her will. As they rounded a corner she let her instincts take over,

grabbed the angel-blade of the younger angel and attacked. The fight was over quickly, the element of surprise and her human and

angelic warrior heritage clearly working in her favor. She could hear the sound of wings coming nearer and did the only thing she could

– she fell.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


End file.
